Damaged goods - Sex Stories

Damaged goods

... was little chance of interruption, which was a small mercy given the mews and desperate panting in the air as she came. She shook against him and he ceased as the waves crashed through her body, more than content to let her enjoy her moment of release. He held her steady throughout, blowing gently onto her centre, occasionally flicking out his tongue to catch the opaque droplets that would otherwise be wasted as gravity exerted its influence. Eventually the tension drained from her body and she relaxed a little. He stood, resting his hand on her pillowy hips above her bunched dress. Their lips locked again and the contact restarted her panting as the sharp smell of her pussy drifted between them. She began to rub his length through his trousers. Even though she had just come, he could sense her need still welling. Perhaps the speed at which she had rocketed to release meant she had more in store. One or two past conquests had exhibited similar traits, but nothing on the level of this girl. She was almost feral with desire. And had fallen right into his lap. Melody couldn't fail to feel the flared end of Ryan's tumescence through the thin material of his trousers. Below her dainty fingers the clasp was unsnapped, zip lowered, underwear pulled down and his cock sprang free into her hot hands. She massaged it, working the drops of pre-come around the swollen head. Despite the impromptu location, Ryan had no misgivings over what he was doing as her fingers encased his shaft and ...

... stroked. Divine. He thrust his tongue inside her hot mouth, exciting them both. She jerked her head away and fixed him with a wild-eyed stare, the jade in her eyes sparkling in the remnants of the main light shaft. Her whispered request was as simple as it was powerful: "Take me. No questions. No ifs or buts or excuses, just fuck me. Please. Fuck me." There was something he recognised in her. Some part of her desperation also inside him, fighting to get out. The human need to hold, to take, to connect, to fuck, unchanged for centuries. He ran his hands up her curves, pawed her ample breasts through her dress and listened to her laboured breathing. Dove into her neck as she tipped her head back, kissed her throat, her jaw line, up to her ear and breathlessly told her to turn around, "So I can fuck you like you deserve." Doing as instructed, turning playfully and sprawling across the ancient table, she made a dust angel. Ryan was temporarily mesmerised by the sight of her alabaster bottom wiggling before him. Utterly flawless, plump globes, starkly contrasted beneath the hem of her floral dress. So perfect he felt compelled to mark them just to make sure they were real. He knew she'd take it and love it. Knew her type perhaps better than she knew herself. He slapped one cheek playfully and the noise echoed around the office. She groaned so he did it again, harder, reaffirming his instincts, alternating spanks until her cheeks were flushed pink and she began to beg. How he loved ...